My Red Plum Blossom
by The Smiling Angel
Summary: When Senju Hashirama first met his wife-to-be, he put a brave smile on his face and welcomed her. When Uzumaki Mito first saw her husband-to-be, she promptly left in search of another spouse. A series of one-shots and drabbles of their married life.
1. Sleepless Nights

**My Red Plum Blossom**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Sleepless Nights**

Hashirama lay on his stomach, his chin resting on his folded arms and his bare feet peeking out from beneath the blankets. He tilted his head in contemplation and wondered again at the mystery that was a human woman.

Why did she put that white, sticky cream all over her face? If it was white, how did it blend into her skin so perfectly as if it was invisible? Did it sink into her skin or something? Did she not worry about having strange, possibly toxic, chemicals in her body? What was it supposed to do anyways, keep her skin soft and pale? Her face was already naturally like that, and it wasn't like anyone one else would see her (besides him) so why would she put on makeup before bed?

Now what was she doing? Why was she putting lotion all over her hands and arms? Hashirama would understand if she applied it in the morning to smell nice (though, he already liked how she smelled without it), but it was nighttime, and he was the only one who would smell her. Once she finished taking a bath, didn't she just need to sleep?

"Stop staring at me," Mito growled suddenly, glaring at Hashirama from her reflection in the mirror. He flinched and directed his eyes elsewhere (the blue flowers on the table by the wall were lovely), but his gaze slowly inched back to his wife, who was spraying perfume on her wrists. She looked up and saw his face in the mirror.

"Do you have nothing better to do?" asked Mito with a sigh. She turned around, her white yukata swirling around her legs, and scowled at Hashirama, who cowered behind his pile of pillows as if they would protect him from her wrath.

"I can't sleep before you," he managed to say in a small voice. Mito gave him a pointed look before turning around again and fluffing her crimson hair, the damp strands soaking and leaving behind dark splotches on the back of her clothes. Hashirama watched her carefully and decided she wouldn't snap at him again since she let him off the hook so he asked, "Why do you put on lotion and perfume at night?"

"Why can't I?" Mito shot back, not bothering to look at him.

"I-I was just wondering," Hashirama stammered, ducking behind his pillows again, though he kept his eyes on his wife's reflection. "I mean, no one's going to smell you, except for me."

"Do you have a problem with me smelling nice?" Mito asked in a threatening voice. Her question sounded rhetorical in Hashirama's ears in an answer-wrong-and-I-will-kick-you-out-of-this-room-clan-elders-be-damned kind of way so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Men," Mito muttered under her breath before pressing her cheeks together and frowning at the state of her perfectly fine skin. "I have to keep applying lotion and creams every day or else I'll look like an old woman before I turn 30. My skin's gotten worse."

Considering his 18-year-old wife had a substantial amount of years left until she reached her "old age", Hashirama felt her concerns were a moot point. He propped himself up on the pillows, his elbows sinking into the cushion. "I don't see anything wrong with your skin."

Rather than the "thank you, you're so sweet" reply he was hoping for (but not foolishly expecting), Mito snapped, "How can you not see these pores around my nose? Or the wrinkles around my eyes? Or the fact that I have a zit on my forehead?"

"Isn't it a good thing I didn't see them?" Hashirama mumbled quietly so she couldn't hear him. Mito huffed, her cheeks inflating with air, but her hand hovered over her bottle of lotion before grabbing it. Still sitting, she inched towards him and motioned for him to sit up. Hashirama scrambled into a sitting position, different terrible scenarios racing through his mind as she punished him for his insolence.

His eyes widened and his shoulders tensed as Mito unscrewed the top, little by little. She was going to do it. She was going to make him swallow her lotion. Maybe if he got to his knees and begged, she would spare him from poisoning—

"Hold out your hands," Mito ordered, stunning Hashirama into silence. When he remained frozen, she groaned in exasperation and seized his wrist, pulling him forward. "Blind and deaf," Mito grumbled, dumping a hefty amount of lotion onto his palm. "I know you keep talking about my lotion because you were jealous and wanted to try some so be grateful for this honor." A triumphant expression emerged on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her head, looking down at him. "Go ahead," she said.

Hashirama still wasn't sure what was happening, but he rubbed his hands together, feeling the cool lotion soothe his skin until it was all gone. He tentatively raised his hands to his nose and breathed in the scent. It was feminine and smelled like Mito, which made him smile.

"I was right," Mito declared. "You wanted to try my lotion."

Hashirama glanced at her in confusion, but the smile remained on his face. "I-I'm not sure about that. . ."

"Turn off the light," commanded Mito, standing up and stomping to her side of the room. She plopped down on her futon and reinforced the cushions that separated them. "Cross this line, and you're dead," Mito threatened, repeating the same warning she said every night for the past 2 months. Hashirama nodded, waving his hand as a gesture of peace, and smiled when she disappeared under her covers, her hair strewn across her pillow.

After blowing out the candle, Hashirama settled into his futon again, but stared at his plethora of cushions and thought Mito would appreciate another one. He picked up one with green leaves on its cover and leaned over the forbidden wall, placing it beside her. Feeling satisfied and proud of himself, Hashirama lay on his back and closed his eyes. It had been a long day, and he was ready for some sleep.

A rustling sound filled his ears, and he scrunched his closed eyes. What was going on? Something plushy and circular landed on his face with a loud thud along with the grumpy voice of his wife, "Warning #1."

**A/N: If you think Mito is mean, the summary of this story already gave a brief feel of their relationship. He adores her. She hates his guts. Let the fun begin!**


	2. Lovebirds

**My Red Plum Blossom**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Lovebirds**

Of all the wise things Senju Butsuma had ever taught his firstborn son, the warning "whatever happens in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom" was one Hashirama disregarded for a better part of his short life, brushing off his father's predicament as bitter, sullen, biased words. It was only when he finally married at the ripe age of 19 that he understood the man he never saw eye-to-eye with. _"What did I tell you, you foolish boy?!"_ he could just hear his father jeer while chuckling heartily. To everyone else, this was a hilarious spectacle and a comedy that made people foam at the mouth from laughing too much, but Hashirama believed he fell into a hell on earth.

The question, _"what did I ever do wrong"_, kept him up late at night (though he was quick to fall asleep once he ran out of ideas). Perhaps this was the Sage of Six Path's retribution ("Take that, you insignificant tree-hugger!") or his demons finally caught up to him while cackling evilly and plotting his demise. Hashirama didn't understand how such a beautiful and demure-appearing young woman could be so . . . he couldn't find the right word to describe her, except for _frightening_, but whenever he thought of that word, he felt chills on the back of his neck and surmised his wife could read his mind.

On one particular day when Hashirama left his office early and dumped all of his work on an unsuspecting Tobirama, he walked through the western wing of the Senju household with wildflowers in one hand and the other swinging by his side. No matter how she acts she's still my wife, he encouraged himself, though his survival instincts told him he was hopeless. Nevertheless, Hashirama resolved to break through the impenetrable fortress his wife built around herself at least for the Uzumaki Clan elder's sake.

"Mito-san," he called out in a quiet voice, preparing himself for any flying, unidentifiable objects. She never went so far as to hit him physically, but her words and her aim did more than enough damage on their own. Hashirama glanced around their bedroom, but everything was the same as this morning. Frowning, he wandered around his home, peeking into every closet, storage room, bathroom (and profusely apologized to clan members bathing inside), and room, but found no sign of his wife. Hashirama leaned against the wall, slightly short of breath, and brainstormed a few areas where he could find Mito. It struck him that he didn't know what she did during the day when he was at the office, and Hashirama raised the flowers in his hand, a heavy feeling tugging at his heart.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes brightened, and Hashirama jumped to his feet, a grin stretching across his face without him knowing. Mito, with her red hair tied in a messy bun above her head, stood a few feet away from him with her hands on her hips. There was sweat on her forehead and the sleeves of her yellow yukata were rolled up past her elbows.

"Ah, Mito-san! There you are! I was looking for you," Hashirama said. Mito raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing?"

"I asked you a question first," she said instead.

"I was looking for you," Hashirama replied. He suddenly remembered the wildflowers in his hand and offered them to Mito. "I wanted to give these to you."

"You came all the way here," Mito gestured to the empty hallway, "to give me flowers." Hashirama nodded his head eagerly, and the incredulous expression her face only deepened. "Are you serious?"

"I had a hard time finding you, though," Hashirama added as Mito huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Where were you? You weren't in the bedroom or in the garden."

"Does it matter?" Mito shot back, turning her head away from him.

Hashirama's smile faltered, but he told himself her rough manners were nothing new so he bolstered himself and widened his smile until his face felt like it was going to rip. "I just thought it'd be nice to know what you like to do during the day."

Mito's eyes widened, and he noticed her arms slackening, but her face hardened just as quickly, and she retorted, "I don't understand why you would suddenly—"

"Oh, Hashirama-sama! And Mito-sama, too!"

Hashirama and Mito froze and stared at each other as a band of footsteps marched down the hallway. His breath hitched in his throat, and Mito rolled her eyes before turning around, plastering a sweet smile on her face. Hashirama stepped closer to his wife and waved his hand in greeting to four of the Senju Clan elders. They weren't elders in the sense they were old (the oldest was only 48) since very few members of their clan survived past 30 during the war, but few tried to dress and act like grandparents, which amused Hashirama to no end.

"It's good to see you," he said, inclining his head as the elders appraised their appearance and a glint appeared in their eyes. "Can I help you?" Mito also bowed her head and played her part as his elegant and calm wife, any sign of frustration and irritation on her face gone. Needless to say, it was jarring for Hashirama to witness.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," said one elder, even though they were.

"Disappearing into an empty hallway with just the two of you," said another with a wink. "You're becoming quite open with our lovely Mito-sama."

Hashirama chuckled, his face reddening despite his efforts to remain calm, and wrapped an arm around Mito's shoulders, pulling her close to him. She stumbled, but didn't say anything and placed a hand on his chest.

"Hashirama-sama is a very good husband," Mito said with a smile. Hashirama's arm trembled at about the same rate as his heart beating, and she snaked an arm around his waist only to pinch his side as a warning. "You should be very proud that he is the head of the Senju Clan."

"It's so nice to see you two get along so well, even though your union was an arranged marriage!" exclaimed the third elder. "We paired them well."

"Seeing how nicely your relationship is coming along, I believe it's only a matter of time until we hear news of our next clan leader," chortled the fourth elder, hiding his gaping mouth behind his sleeve.

Hashirama felt Mito stiffen against him, and he rubbed her shoulder in a comforting gesture, though she pinched him again to make him stop. "Ah, ha, ah, right," he stammered, blushing profusely, though that only made the elders more animated.

"They do make their activities during the night rather vocal so I wouldn't be surprised," laughed one elder.

Hashirama winced. If they meant the times he yelped whenever Mito glared or threw something at him or when Mito shrieked as he walked in on her dressing or stepping out of the bathroom, then yes, they were quite vocal when alone in their bedroom.

"I apologize for the trouble," said Mito suddenly, surprising Hashirama, who glanced down at her. She turned her chin upwards and the warm smile on her face made his heart flutter, and he unconsciously licked his lips. "We didn't mean to."

"It's nothing to apologize for! It's all in jest!" replied one of the elders. "Continue on with what you're doing. Don't mind us!" Hashirama and Mito nodded and held their smiles as the elders backtracked, though they kept their eyes on the married couple. When they wouldn't stop looking at them, Mito wrapped her free arm around Hashirama's waist and embraced him tightly, causing a wave of laughter among the overjoyed clan elders. They clapped in glee and gave them two-thumbs up before finally disappearing around the corner.

Hashirama and Mito held their breaths, and 10 seconds passed in silence until Mito pushed away, and he mourned the loss of her touch. She smoothed out the creases in her yukata and took a few steps backwards until there was a considerable amount of distance between them. Mito folded her arms over her chest, her eyes returning to their usual narrowed and cold state.

"S-sorry about that," Hashirama muttered, chuckling nervously. He rubbed the back of his head and searched for words to say, but couldn't find any.

"It doesn't matter," Mito replied.

"Here, if you want the flowers," Hashirama said in an attempt to ease the awkward tension between them.

Mito glanced at the wildflowers in his hand and puffed her cheeks before replying, "I'm not taking them unless they're already in a vase." She stomped away without another word, leaving Hashirama speechless with a hopeful smile.

**A/N: He's breaking through. Like a weed, he's breaking through the stone~**

**To Anna (Guest): Thank you for reviewing! I also feel the same way about Mito, but for entertainment's sake, I switched up her personality a little bit. Thank you for understanding!**

**To Lilly-chan (Guest): Thank you for reviewing! And LOL, your review made me laugh! Let's just say they didn't have any to begin with, but we're getting there. Cute username, by the way!**


	3. Tiger vs Dragon I

**My Red Plum Blossom**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! You can blame (or thank) a certain anime for this chapter. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: Tiger vs. Dragon I**

The night of the 17th day of each month, Hashirama would return home after doing his usual work—signing papers, appeasing his brother and Madara (not an easy feat), listening to people's requests, watering his plants—and find himself in another world.

The bedroom would be clean. Top to bottom, side to side, every inch, every corner was sparkling. Hashirama was even afraid to step inside as he felt whatever spell or magic the room was under would be broken by his yet-to-be-washed feet and clothes covered by the outside world's grime. It was a perfect painting, every housewife's dream, every parent's wish, and he had no idea who cleaned the bedroom so well.

His first guess had been Mito because she had a pet peeve about the servant girls cleaning their bedroom, as they allegedly rearranged her "perfect" array of cosmetics and "organized" closet, even though her side of the room was anything but perfect and organized. If Hashirama already didn't know that looks were deceiving, he would've believed his wife had multiple personality disorder with how she appeared—no wrinkles in her yukata, no eyelash out of place, and no stray hair out of her bun—and how her clothes were strewn all over the floor and the mess that was known as her vanity table. On days when Mito failed to ascend from the abyss beneath her blankets, Hashirama tiptoed around their bedroom and tried to give it a semblance of people actually living in there, but he risked his neck doing so. And he did not like risking his neck when Mito was the threat.

Hashirama didn't know who the savior of their bedroom was and decided that until he discovered this special person he would believe the Sage of Six Paths manifested himself to save his descendant from possible death of excessive dust inhalation and an inevitable clothing landslide.

After springing his leftover work on an unsuspecting Senju Toka since he could never fool Tobirama with the same trick again (he would have to come up with something else later), Hashirama crept through the hallway, hiding his back against the wall whenever a clan member passed by and occasionally greeting an elderly woman drinking her tea. He had to catch this hero red-handed and reward him or her for their live-saving work. Hashirama held his breath as the rice paper door came into view, and he crouched down to his knees. Sliding the door open, Hashirama peeked inside and smiled when he saw Mito's clothes flying through the air into a pile by the open window. The person just started working and now he only had to announce himself while thanking the hero on his and Mito's behalf when he frowned.

A black yukata soared through the air after Mito's pink one and then another dark blue one with a large rectangle pattern. It looked awfully familiar, and Hashirama eased the door open a little more to get a better view. Wait, wasn't that his . . . Hashirama's eyes widened when he realized the perpetrator was also messing up his closet. As if there was anything to clean, he thought before standing up and slamming the door open. He was going to give this intruder a lesson—

Hashirama's hand fell from its grip around the door's handle at about the same time Mito whirled around and dropped his yukata. They stared at each other for moment to process what just happened, and the silence snapped like a thin thread.

"Don't scare me like that!" Mito shouted, throwing the yukata straight at Hashirama's face. Fabric collided with skin as Hashirama was caught off-guard and fell down with a loud thud. His backside was aching, but the shock of seeing his wife actually cleaning their bedroom stunned him more.

"M-Mito-san," Hashirama managed to say as his yukata slid into his lap.

"Open the door like that when you need to break it," Mito chided, placing her hand over her chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Are you cleaning the room?" Hashirama asked, stumbling to his feet and stepping inside. Their bedroom looked messier than this morning with clothes all over the floor and the windows opened to allow the sunlight to discern the location of every speck of dust.

"What else would I be doing?" Mito asked instead with a frown. Her hair was tied back in a bun, revealing a rather pretty forehead normally obscured by her side-swept bang, and Hashirama thought he liked this look on her before returning to the situation at hand.

"It's just . . . you've been cleaning the room the entire time?" he wondered. The expression of awe on his face didn't escape Mito's attention, and she scoffed.

"For the past three months. No thanks to you."

"Me?"

"You."

"Did I do something wrong?" Hashirama inquired, tilting his head in confusion. Did she not know he tidied up their bedroom as much as possible in the mornings?

"I'm obviously not the only one using this room," Mito explained with a world-weary sigh. A normal person would have responded, "And you're the one solely responsible for the mess in the first place," but Hashirama wasn't normal. A light feeling filled his chest in anticipation.

"Can I help you clean up today then?" he asked with an eager smile. It was the kind of smile that made women pine over him for who knows how long, but Mito only looked at him as if he just asked, "Is it normal to have ten toes?"

"Are you serious?" asked Mito in a skeptical tone of voice, but Hashirama misunderstood it as an I-will-love-you-forever-if-you-help-me-clean kind of reply.

"I am very serious!" he assured her, offering her a fist pump. "Where should I start?"

Mito was undeterred by his energy, though. "You'll just get in the way of me cleaning."

"I promise I can do a very good job," Hashirama insisted. His wife only raised an eyebrow, and he belatedly realized that she was suspecting him of running away when cleaning their disaster of a room became too difficult of a task for him. Hashirama gathered the energy necessary to convince Mito he could do a good job. He was the Hokage after all!

"We'll have a competition then," declared Hashirama, smiling when he saw a glint of interest in Mito's eyes. "You'll clean one half of the room, and I'll clean the other half. Whoever finishes first can have a single wish granted by the other person."

"It can be any wish?" asked Mito.

Hashirama gave a single, solid nod. "Any wish."

"Fine," Mito agreed, rolling her sleeves above her elbows. "Don't go easy on me, though."

"I don't plan on it," laughed Hashirama. "I have a competition to win."

After dividing their room as evenly as possible (Hashirama had the closet and bathroom while Mito had the rest of the room and her mess known as a vanity table), they did a countdown from 10 and raced away to their respective area before they even finished saying "1." Hashirama strategized that the bathroom was his hardest challenge and tackled it head-on when he was still at his full strength.

_We Senju are notorious for our endurance and power_, he thought with a gleeful smile while shooting a glance at Mito, who was busy organizing her cosmetics. Seeing how cluttered the whole table was, Hashirama guessed he could finish cleaning the bathroom by the time she was finished.

It was only after scrubbing the bathtub clean that he wished he were a Water Style user like Tobirama and wash down the entire bathroom with a simple jutsu._ Plants can't help me clean_, Hashirama grumbled to himself after wiping the wooden floor clean with a wet cloth. He wiped away the sweat on his forehead and gave himself a thumbs-up when the bathroom gleamed and sparkled with his hard work and expert cleaning skills. Success!

Hashirama pranced out of the bathroom with a smile on his face, but gawked when he saw Mito shoving all their clothes in the direction of the closet, his next task.

"That's not fair!" he complained as his wife elegantly stuck out her tongue at him.

"They belong in the closet," she retorted. Hashirama grimaced at the mountain of fabric waiting for him while Mito skipped away to begin her work with the rest of the room.

_She's playing dirty, but I will win_, Hashirama grunted with a determined expression on his face. He quickly sorted through the clothes (and blushed whenever he picked up one of Mito's kimono or yukata) and hung them from the rack with a speed the Raikage would be proud of. Hashirama checked out his opponent's progress and gaped when he saw her using a mop to wipe the floor instead of using her hand. A vein throbbed in his forehead as he picked up the pace as much as possible. His wife knew how to win a game.

Hashirama's eyes widened when he picked up the last piece of clothing (Mito's pink yukata that she hasn't worn, yet), and a smile spread across his face as he fitted it into the closet and whirled around.

"Done!" he announced as Mito rounded the corner and straightened her back. "I'm finished with the bathroom and closet." Hashirama placed his hands on his hips triumphantly and watched Mito stare at him with her chin on top of the mop's handle.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Hashirama nodded, already thinking about his wish, when a smile crept across his wife's face. Mito burst into laughter, and Hashirama took a step back, dumbfounded. She never laughed before. . .

"You didn't finish cleaning the closet," Mito explained between her bouts of laughter. "You have to wash the futons, blankets, and pillow covers, too." Hashirama stumbled backwards in shock (what?!) as Mito returned the same triumphant smile that disappeared from his face. "They're in the closet. You wouldn't know, but I washed all them before, too. It's called "complete cleaning"."

Hashirama stared at his wife before chuckling and placing his hands on his knees. "You won, you won," he admitted. "I lost." Hashirama raised his head. "So what's your wish?"

Mito bit her lower lip, an action that made Hashirama suck in his breath, and replied, "I'll tell you later after thinking about it."

"Alright, alright, fair enough," Hashirama agreed, his face aching from how excessively he was smiling. Mito's face twitched as if she realized she just laughed and smiled, and she quickly turned around and left the room with an order, "Clean the rest of the closet!"

Hashirama watched her retreating figure until he couldn't even hear her pounding footsteps. His reluctance to wash the laundry utterly disappeared and was replaced by giddiness by one fact. Mito laughed.

**A/N: Only two chapters for this story are out and I already have 10 reviews. That's unheard of and a first for me! To everyone who reviewed, you are awesome! To everyone who favorited and followed, you are awesome! To everyone who read this story, you are awesome! Thank you so much!**

**To Anna (Guest): Thanks for reviewing again! I completely agree with you, though the clan elders were only teasing because Hashirama and Mito were alone in the hallway, but it's still pretty ignorant for them to assume they're getting along well. And yes, Mito is very lucky to have Hashirama as a husband ^-^. Don't worry, your English is not bad at all! Thank you again!**


	4. A Woman's Sensitivity

**My Red Plum Blossom**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! I apologize in advance to the male readers interested in this story. There is a consensus among the female population of the FanFiction community that there must be chapter like this. Enjoy! . . . I guess. . .  
**

**Chapter 4: A Woman's Sensitivity**

If he ever had to give himself credit for something, Hashirama would select his insight and ability to understand people. Younger brother feeling grumpier than usual? Little kids probably pointed him out as a "fluffy dog" because of his white fur collar. Friend-rival-enemy-comrade-co-founder looking scarier than normal? The old grandma down the street probably used his gunbai to cool her sweet potatoes. Clan elders talking less? Well, Hashirama didn't care about that since that automatically meant his day will be nice.

See, he was quite the perceptive fellow.

So when Mito sat in front of the mirror on certain days—always the beginning of the last week of each month—looking as if someone insulted her cooking skills to her face (who would dare?), Hashirama had to sit down and ponder her current state. It preoccupied the largest amount of area in his brain, rendering him unable to think about anything else for the entire week.

In return for talking less, her scowls grew in frequency and deadliness, chilling Hashirama to the very marrow of his bones and making him wish she would use that same weapon against the people who constantly pestered him for favors. If he even stepped into the same room as her, Mito would give him her trademark stare of I-will-kick-you-out-of-this-room-clan-elders-be-damned so Hashirama would retreat, normally behind the safety of Tobirama's back. . . And then get quickly kicked to the curb by his exasperated brother, but those were little details.

"I honestly don't know what I'm doing wrong," Hashirama constantly whined, banging his head on his desk.

"Let's start with talking about your personal life when we're in a meeting for the village's new training ground," snapped Madara, causing Hashirama to fall deeper into his depression.

He tried, though. For the two times he had to experience and weather through a week with Mito moping around the house with a thunder cloud over her head, Hashirama did everything he could to cheer her up, but eventually resorted to avoiding her after she banned him from entering their bedroom in the first month (even though it was his room previously).

When the third month of their marriage rolled along, the second week creeping closer and closer, Hashirama was sweating in a nervous state. He sat hunched in his office chair, his knees brought to his chest, and mindlessly whirled around in circles. What was he going to do? This morning, in fear of Mito's special condition arriving earlier than anticipated, Hashirama snuck out of his futon an hour before his wife crawled out from underneath the abyss of her blankets, resembling a red ghoul with tentacles for hair. The morning after their first night together as a married couple, Hashirama had been so shocked by her unruly appearance that he instinctively prepared his chakra and threatened the red monster to give him back his new bride. It was only when Mito revealed her face beneath the crimson forest that Hashirama realized his felony and apologized to her the entire day ("I'm so sorry!" "Shut up.").

_Maybe she's still offended by that_, Hashirama thought as he spun his chair again. He stared at the empty wall in front of him, and a single knock on the door was the only warning for someone's arrival.

"Hokage-sama," said Toka, her head lowered as she read a list of the clans asking to integrate into Konoha. "I have the paperwork you wanted—"

Hashirama slowly turned his head to face his friend and managed a smile in greeting, though it was more like a grimace with his red eyes and dark circles. Toka froze, horrified by the Hokage's appearance, and sighed before shutting and locking the door behind her.

"What is it this time?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes.

"You'll really listen to me?" asked Hashirama, sitting up in his chair.

"I really shouldn't since I had to pull an all-nighter last week because of you," Toka accused, but there wasn't any malice in her voice.

"Well, it's just that . . . Mito's gone crazy, and I don't know what to do!"

There was a moment of silence until Toka groaned and rubbed the back of her head. "The last time I checked, she was perfectly sane. You, on the other hand. . ."

"This happens every month! The second week of every month! She's easily irritable and doesn't hesitate to snap my neck!" Hashirama insisted. "When I try to be kind, she's mean to me. When I try to avoid her, she's still mean!"

"And this happens once a month?" Toka clarified.

"Once a month! I don't know what to do! I just want to get along with her, but she makes it so difficult. . ."

Toka stared at Hashirama, who clutched his head with both of his hands, and muttered, "Hell, why am I stuck with this? . . ."

"Do you seriously not know why she's like that?" Toka asked, begging her friend to know.

Hashirama lowered his hands and shook his head. "I have no idea!"

Toka sighed in defeat and took a deep breath before explaining, "Mito-sama's probably on her period."

"Her what?" asked Hashirama, eyes widening in horror. "She can't be sick, right? She's not sick, right?"

Toka raised her hands to calm the hyperventilating Hokage. "No, Mito-sama is not sick. All women have their period once they reach a certain age. We usually get cramps in our stomachs and feel bloated. Mito-sama can take every little thing you do and say the wrong way when she's usually more rational about it."

"So she's more emotional plus she has cramps and feels chubby," repeated Hashirama, cocking his head in puzzlement. She wasn't that different. . .

"Don't say that in front of her," Toka warned. "Now, the most you can do for Mito-sama as her husband is to do these things I tell you. Listen carefully."

"Just a second," Hashirama interrupted. He had a burning question in the back of his mind. "So you also have this period thing, right? Is that why you become really irritated sometimes?"

". . . Do you want the answers that will save your life or not?"

"Yes, ma'm."

After learning the answers to all of life's questions from Toka, who appeared a Sage in Hashirama's eyes now, he took a deep breath and made his way home after telling her to dump all of his work on an unsuspecting Tobirama. He ardently prayed that the item inside a pink bag he carried with both hands would help Mito on her period thing. Hashirama still wasn't sure why women had to go through such a terrible thing, but Toka told him to ask Madara or Tobirama instead, which he planned on doing after appeasing his wife.

Hashirama paused in front of the closed door and glanced once at the pink bag, begging it to help Mito, before opening the door cautiously.

"Mito-san," he said, poking his head inside. A futon was on the floor along with all the blankets in the closet. Hashirama guessed Mito was underneath the mountain of fabric and tiptoed across the room. He sat down beside her and lifted up the corner of a blanket, peeking at Mito. She was lying on her stomach, her red hair fanned out and her face hidden in a pillow. "You'll suffocate like that," Hashirama chided.

"Go away," Mito snapped in a muffled voice, though her tone lacked its usual biting edge. Hashirama frowned at how weak she sounded and opened the pink bag, taking out a velvet heart-shaped box. He exhaled, repeating to himself that he can do it, and leaned forward, trying to see Mito's face.

"I brought you something that'll make you feel better," Hashirama said. "It's the best dark chocolate I could find in Konoha." He held his breath and waited for a reaction, but yelped when Mito suddenly shot up from the futon. She turned to Hashirama, and he saw her forehead lined with sweat and her skin pale. Her eyes narrowed, but she sat up and covered herself with blankets.

"Dark chocolate?" Mito repeated, eyeing the heart-shaped box in Hashirama's hand.

"Yup, dark chocolate!" Hashirama confirmed, feeling happy at the look of interest on his wife's face. He quickly opened the box and revealed rows of chocolate pieces; some drizzled with caramel and others with flakes of white chocolate. The smell was sweet and alluring, but Hashirama offered the chocolate to Mito. "It's all for you," he said.

Mito glanced at him once before reaching for a chocolate. Hashirama watched in glee as she bit into a simple dark chocolate one and then one with caramel. One by one, the dark chocolate disappeared until only four were left. Mito picked up another chocolate—one filled with raspberry sauce—but instead of eating it, she looked at Hashirama.

"Do you want one?" she asked. Hashirama sucked in his breath in shock. Was she seriously offering him something? He laughed nervously, unsure of how he should feel, and shook his head.

"It's all for you," he replied, and Mito shrugged.

"Good. I wasn't going to share," she retorted before popping the chocolate into her mouth. Hashirama stared at her, happy to see his wife appeared like herself again, and chuckled as Mito turned her head away from him, devouring all the chocolate until the heart-shaped box was empty.

**A/N: To Anna (Guest): Thank you for reviewing again, and it's no problem! Will Hashirama's wish ever be revealed? I don't know ^_^**


	5. This is War

**My Red Plum Blossom**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! I had to write this after experiencing my own tiny, gruesome battle 2 nights ago. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5: This is War**

Perhaps it was because he was at the Hokage's office for most of the day and only saw his wife early in the morning and late at night, Hashirama became very familiar with her sleeping habits. How she needed a legion of blankets even during the sweltering heat of summer. How she only desired one pillow, but it had to be the fluffiest, softest pillow in the Land of Fire (Hashirama preordered it). How she had a habit of sleeping on her stomach. How he knew she wasn't feeling well because she slept on her side instead. How she liked to bury herself in blankets, but periodically surfaced to breathe some fresh air. How she preferred sleeping with the windows closed since insects could come in (Hashirama covered the window frames with a mosquito net). How the hair she perfected the night before turned into the tentacles of some red squid that was a delicacy in the Land of Whirlpools (but Hashirama kept this tidbit to himself).

So when he returned home at around midnight because he actually had to finish his work as Tobirama and Toka simultaneously disappeared earlier in the day, Hashirama had expected to see Mito buried beneath her mountain of blankets, already snoring away and never emerging until morning. He opened the door, his shoulders sore and stiff, and took a step back when he saw his wife huddled on her futon with a blanket covering her so only her face showed.

"Mito-san, are you OK?" asked Hashirama, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He glanced around the room and wondered if there was something lurking around the walls and corners that were frightening her.

"Kill it, kill it," Mito demanded, her eyes wide, and Hashirama could see her body tremble underneath the blanket.

"Kill what?" asked Hashirama. "Is there a mouse in here or something?" He whirled around and was about to ask her why didn't tell someone (and why was she sitting on the floor?), but Mito shook her head and raised her eyes, peeking at the ceiling.

"A fly got in here," she explained. "Kill it."

"Huh?"

Mito cringed and lowered her head. "It keeps buzzing and flying everywhere! I can't sleep because of it. What if it gets into my mouth or something?"

"A-a f-f-fly," stammered Hashirama, not from apprehension but from bewilderment. The almighty Mito afraid of a fly. Huh.

"Don't tell me you're scared," his wife barked, mistaking his stuttering for fear.

Hashirama quickly raised his hands to appease her and chuckled. "Ah, no, I'm not scared. It's just . . ." A brief image of Mito nailing him in the head with her favorite pillow flashed through his mind. ". . . I'll go catch it now."

"You're going to kill it," Mito corrected. "One less fly in the world the better. Hurry up!" Hashirama nodded and rolled up his sleeves, observing the room and keeping his ears alert for any sign of this evil fly that dared to bother his wife. He was a trained killer, whether he liked to admit it or not, and if he could take another human's life easily, smacking the life out of a tiny fly shouldn't be a problem.

"I hear it!" shouted Mito, risking the safety of her arm to point to the window. "It's over there!" Hashirama's eyes flickered to a spot on the wall, and he smiled when he saw a tiny, buzzing black dot against a background of white.

"I've got you now," he muttered before stalking across the room.

"You're going to kill it with your bare hand?" whispered Mito in a horrified voice.

Images of blood and human guts on his hands flashed through Hashirama's mind, but he simply smiled and replied, "I don't mind. Besides, using something else could be unreliable." He returned his attention to his opponent and inched closer and closer until he was right below the fly. Hashirama slowly raised his hand, watching the papery wings of the fly flutter, and slapped the wall with his palm.

The fly drifted away without a care in the world.

"Are you kidding me?" demanded Mito, hiding under her blankets as the fly buzzed around the room. Hashirama ignored the throbbing in his hand and glanced around the room in search of his surprisingly fast foe.

"Aha, he's a quick little fellow!" Hashirama laughed. "But I'll beat him this time!" He crept around the room and followed the fly until it landed on the edge of the mirror. Hashirama knelt down and slowly approached his rival, preparing his hand for the smashing soon to come. _You're mine now, you little rascal_, he thought and swung his hand over the unsuspecting fly. "I got it!" Hashirama cheered, but his smile disappeared when something black poked out between his fingers.

"Are you sure?" asked Mito from behind.

"Uh" was the most Hashirama could muster before the fly escaped again. Mito screamed and ducked for cover as the nasty little pest went berserk, bouncing off the ceiling and buzzing for all it was worth. A high-pitched squeak emitted from Hashirama's mouth when the fly charged at him, and he swung at his ears to get rid of the buzzing noise.

"It's going crazy!" Mito screeched. "Hurry up and kill it!"

"I-I wish I could!" Hashirama replied, leaping after the fly. It kept evading his grasp like a slippery shinobi, and he was soon out of breath, leaning an arm against the wall as the fly pranced around him. Hashirama stared his archenemy in the eye, noting the way an arrogant smirk flitted across its face, and growled. He was going to catch this thing no matter what.

"You should be honored, Fly-san!" Hashirama declared, bringing his hands together. "Only a worthy opponent is capable of forcing me to use my kekkei genkai! Mokuton—"

"Don't destroy the room!"

Hashirama yelped and quickly ducked as a pillow sailed over his head. It crashed into the wall and left a dent, leaving the Hokage to imagine what would have happened if that hit his head. Hashirama collapsed on the floor, scared out of his wits, and held back a comment that Mito ended up damaging a part of their bedroom instead.

"Your aim is as amazing as ever!" Hashirama said with a laugh, dutifully ignoring the eerie scowl on his wife's face. He crawled over to pick up the pillow, but something small dropped off it. "What's this?" Hashirama asked, bending down. His eyes widened in shock as he peered closer at it. "Wait, is this the . . ."

"What is it now?" asked Mito. "Give me back my pillow."

Hashirama looked back at his wife and pointed to the black mass on the floor. "I think you just killed the fly."

There was a moment of silence until Mito asked, "I killed the fly?" Hashirama gave her a single nod and turned back to the corpse of his enemy. It had been perfectly smacked into oblivion by Mito's powerful pillow throwing skill, and he would not have recognized his opponent if not for the fly's distinguishable face. It died while smirking.

"I can't believe it," Mito muttered, too shocked to be happy.

"I'm a little sad it died," Hashirama confessed. "You know how affection develops over time with even your enemies? The little fly was actually pretty cute."

"Don't be silly," Mito snapped. "No one loves flies. Now can I have my pillow back?" There was a paused before she added, "Never mind. I don't want it. It probably has fly guts on it or something."

Hashirama picked up her fluffy pillow and brushed off both sides of it. "No, it's actually clean. Most of the fly's remains went on the wall instead."

"I don't care," Mito asserted underneath her mountain of blankets as Hashirama looked at her pillow fondly and walked back to his wife.

"You're quite lethal with your aim, Mito-san," he said with a toothy grin. "Maybe you can call this skill "Pillow Slap no Jutsu" or "Fluffy Obliteration no Jutsu" or "I-Will-Kick-You-Out-Of-This-Room-With-A-Pillow-Clan-Elders-Be-Damned no Jutsu" or—"

"Shut up" was Mito's muffled reply.

**A/N: I ran all over my room trying to kill that little pest . . . So annoying .**

**To Olivia (Guest): Thank you for reviewing! OMG, Tobirama dealing with his wife while she's on her period LOL Thank you for the good laugh! I can imagine he'd actually be worse than Hashirama, and that's saying a lot. Hahaha, Senju girl. Yeah, I think I am ^o^ Thanks for the story idea! I'll definitely think about it, thought it's going to be hard coming up with a proper OC wife for him.**

**To Jane (Guest): Thank you for reviewing! Wow, I'm happy you like the story! Thanks for the compliment, too!**


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